


Te Absolvo

by epeeblade



Series: The Thorn Hawk [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Catholic, Catholic Character, M/M, Religion, UST, agent!phil, agnostic!phil, priest!Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeeblade/pseuds/epeeblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil had found a friend in parish priest, Clint Barton. That should have been enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Te Absolvo

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lapillus for the beta, though all mistakes are my own.
> 
> I wanted to note that I intend no disrespect to anyone with this fic. There are both good and bad in all faiths and professions, and I tried to be respectful with the subject matter. 
> 
> That said, if you are triggered by priests or the Catholic Church, please heed this warning.
> 
> The title is from the Catholic rite of confession. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Absolution#Roman_Catholic_Church for more info.

Phil had first come to this place on the darkest night of his life as a SHIELD agent, nearly five years ago now. He’d left headquarters with blood under his fingernails and hands that would not stop shaking. When he’d stumbled on the empty church with its large wooden doors thrown open, he’d felt drawn in by the flickering candlelight.

It wasn’t that Phil was religious. If anything he’d confess to being an agnostic, because while he was damn sure there was something out there, Phil thought it would be hubris to try to figure out what.

But something about the quiet space drew him in. He’d sat in a pew and stared up at the altar, the part of his mind he couldn’t shut off cataloging each item and evaluating their effectiveness as a weapon. Sometimes Phil wished he could shut it off. He leaned forward and braced his head on his hands, trying to get the memories to just stop repeating themselves.

“Hey.” The voice had come from behind. 

Startled - because it had been a long time since someone had snuck on him - Phil jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry.” He straightened his suit jacket and tried to look nonchalant. “I expect you’re about to close.”

The priest who’d spoken looked far too young and good looking to be a man of the cloth. He had broad shoulders, and muscled arms that strained against the black of his shirt. Most captivating were the eyes, though in the flickering light Phil couldn’t tell if they were green or blue or something in between. 

“We don’t really close.” The priest smiled, his grin a twist that promised mischief. “But you look like someone who might need to talk.”

Something about that night had compelled honesty from him. “I can’t even talk about it. If I told you then I would actually have to kill you.”

Those eyes had softened. “You know anything you tell me in the seal of confession, I can’t ever reveal? Even in court?”

“I don’t think that’s quite true.”

“I answer to a higher law.” The priest pointed upward.

Phil looked up, despite himself. The stained glass windows looked down at him. In the dark, they were dim, but even so he could make out the colors, and the scenes they depicted. He was caught by one so extraordinary, like nothing he’d ever seen in a Catholic Church before. There was Jesus, sitting on a rock, giving comfort to a modern day man who was hunched over and crying. 

“I think, I might take you up on that, Father.”

The priest rubbed at his forehead. “Just...call me Clint. Please. I usually don’t stand on ceremony.”

Phil nodded and let himself be led into the confessional. There he told all, reliving every moment once more.

_  
“Please, Coulson, you know I’m a dead man, just do it.”_

_“I’m not putting you down like a lame horse, Garret. They’ll be here soon. You’re gonna be okay.”  
_

But extraction had come far too late, and Phil could only hold the agent as he breathed his last. “It wasn’t even the first time I’ve lost someone. But the way he died…”

Clint didn’t speak at first. His quiet presence alone helped Phil unburden his soul. As the words left his lips, the images stilled in his mind. Finally he could have some measure of peace tonight.

  
***  


That night had meant a lot to Phil. Hearing Father Clint absolve him gave Phil the ability to forgive himself. He would never forget, but now at least, Phil could sleep. He never expected to see Clint again.

So of course he met the priest at a grocery store a few months later. Phil all but ran into him in the canned goods aisle. Clint had a green basket over one arm, and he wasn’t wearing his clerical collar, but a plain t-shirt. It had taken Phil off-guard and he rambled something about not expecting to run into Clint here.

“Yeah, priests eat too. We don’t actually live on the blood of Christ.” CLint looked chagrined even as he said it.

Phil grinned. “Oh, that’s right. I keep getting priests and vampires mixed up.”

Clint laughed. Phil loved the sound, glad to find that they shared a similar sense of humor. 

“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt your shopping.” Phil gestured with his own basket, which was embarrassingly full of frozen dinners. Clint’s, he could see, had fresh veggies and other less frozen ingredients. 

“No problem.” Clint bit his lip, and Phil found it distracting. “Do you have plans for dinner? I make a mean Chicken Piccata and Monsignor DiMeo is out of town. It’s sucks cooking for one.”

If this was anyone else, Phil might think Clint was angling for a date. But Phil couldn’t quite read the younger man, and he hesitated.

Clint put his hand on Phil’s arm and squeezed. “Priests can have friends too.”

Phil could feel his cheeks heat. “I guess I could use one of those.” He could count on one hand the people he knew outside of work, and half of those he was related to. Maybe this was a good opportunity to get to know someone else with no ties to SHIELD, but knew enough about Phil’s job to understand when he disappeared. “I’d love to come over for dinner.”

  
***  


Clint lived in a rectory. Phil had never had the distinction of being in a rectory before. It was something to add to his list of life experiences.He’d thought he’d seen everything working for SHIELD, but apparently not.

The door led from the street into what looked like a tiny waiting room with an office attached. Beyond that, Phil could see the kitchen, dining room and a set of stairs leading upward. Someone had decorated it in dark wood and deep greens. 

“Monsignor usually has one of the parishioners do the cooking. But he’s at this conference in Baltimore, so I told Maria she didn’t have to come by.” Clint chatted as started putting groceries away in the kitchen. “You can store your stuff in the fridge until you go. The freezer is kinda empty at the moment.”

“Much like my own.” Phil pointed toward the waiting room. “Is this area open to the public?”

“Caught that, huh?” Clint tossed him an apple, which Phil caught without thinking. “Yeah, there’s a secretary during the day. This place also doubles as the parish office.”

“How efficient.”

“Well, you could say I’m always on call.” Clint shrugged. “Eat up. It’ll be awhile before the chicken is ready.”

Phil dutifully took a bite, finding the apple rich and juicy in his mouth. He swallowed it down, the fruit a pleasant treat. When he went to put his things in the freezer, Phil noticed the photographs hung on the fridge. Clint was in all of them, usually surrounded by a group of teenagers. In one he and several tall teens were in basketball uniforms. In another Clint and a group of younger looking kids were posing with bows and arrows.

“I guess you run the youth division?” Phil gestured to the photos.

Clint looked up from his chopping. “The youth group? Yeah. I also started an archery club. It’s proving pretty successful so far. I guess it’s true - go with what you know.”

Phil leaned up against the counter and finished his apple as he watched Clint work. “And archery is what you know?”

“That’s actually a funny story.” Clint had gotten all of the ingredients together and was dutifully chopping on a wooden cutting board. 

Phil didn’t think he even owned a cutting board. “You can’t say that and not tell the story.”

“Hmm.” Clint didn’t speak for a moment before finally gesturing with his knife. “Okay, but no one knows this. So, this stays between you and me, okay?”

A rush of warmth went through Phil. This was Clint’s way of returning the favor from Phil’s night in the confessional. Clint already knew far too much about Phil. Now, it was his turn. Phil nodded.

“I was eight when my parents died. My brother and I were sent to the St. Ignatius orphanage. This wasn’t one of those creepy places that show up in bad television shows.” Clint scowled and started to chop with hard deliberate strokes. Phil feared for the pepper beneath his hands. “The sisters were kind, and the place was clean and bright. They did rule the place with an iron fist. But, you know what? I kinda liked the order. Easy to know exactly where I fit in.” 

Clint’s chopping eased to a more manageable level. “That, actually, isn’t the secret part. Everyone knows about my time at St. Iggy’s.” He gestured toward the fridge. “I work with a lot of foster kids.”

“That makes sense. You bond on a common traumatic event.” Phil nodded. He didn’t understand the look Clint threw his way.

“Uh, yeah. So while I liked the structure, my big brother didn’t. When I was twelve, this circus rolled into town - Carson's Carnival of Travelling Wonders.” Clint stopped chopping and stared into space for a moment. When he spoke again, his hand curved in the air, as if tracing his memories. “It was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen. Acrobats flying across the air. Lions and elephants and chattering monkeys. Popcorn for dinner and cotton candy everywhere.”

Clint painted such a vivid picture that Phil could almost see the tents of the big top. He could just about smell the popcorn and hay. The most impressive thing was the way Clint’s face changed, like he’d gone somewhere else.

“I loved it. So when Barney suggest we stow away in the caravans when they left, I didn’t say no. That’s how we ran away and joined the circus.”

“And no one carted you two back to the orphanage immediately?”

Clint snorted. “You have to understand that Carson’s was made up of people who lived off the grid. Two kids wanting out of the system? We were welcome as long as we bucked up and did our share of the work.”

“Still it seems like it would be an insurance nightmare, at the very least.” Phil couldn’t imagine it, if two small children walked into SHIELD headquarters and offered their services.

“That’s because you, Phil Coulson, are a man who’s always followed the rules.” Clint went back to chopping. “Sometimes the rules don’t help everyone.”

Phil let the crest of anger wash over him, and then die out. Clint was right, but it burned that the priest could read Phil so well so quickly. That skill must make Clint a very successful priest, as well as his own experiences.

“I suppose it’s easy for me to judge.” Phil cleared his throat. Silence filled the kitchen as Clint continued to work. Phil forced some lightness into his voice. “You said this was a story about you and archery?”

Clint flashed him a smile, his eyes soft in the fluorescent kitchen lights. “Right. I was lucky enough to apprentice with the circus marksman, who said I had a rare gift.” Clint shrugged. “I was always good at seeing things from a distance, and it turns out that really helps when you’re shooting flaming arrows from the back of a horse.”

“Well now I feel inadequate.”

Clint laughed. “Trust me it’s not a skill that translates well to real life. It’s why I left.”

“How long did you stay?”

“A year. When the circus came back round to Waverly I took the opportunity to see if there still was a place for me at the orphanage.” Clint had started assembling all of the ingredients into a baking pan. He took his time, arranging it artfully. “Cause even at thirteen I could see that the circus was no place for a future.”

Phil watched as Clint shoved the whole thing into the over. “But you kept it up?”

“I got adopted not long after I went back. It turned out to be a good extracurricular activity. Of course, I didn’t need it in the seminary…”

“I don’t know. I think this city might need a squadron of bow and arrow wielding priests.” Phil made a mental note to explore the efficacy of the weapon. A bow might get into places a gun couldn’t.

Then he chided himself for constantly thinking about work. How could he expect to make - and keep - a friend if he had no outside interests? 

Clint laughed again. He left the room long enough to return with a bottle of wine. “No jokes about being sacrilegious, we just like to have wine with dinner here. That okay? I have Coke in the fridge if not.”

Phil sat at the tiny kitchen table. “It’s just fine.”

Later that chicken turned out to be the best he’d ever tasted.

  
***  


That dinner turned into the first of many over the years. They didn’t typically meet at the rectory. Monsignor DiMeo rarely went to conferences, and Phil preferred it when the older man was out. Otherwise he felt like that furrowed brow was staring and judging him. DiMeo could give Fury a run on the creepy stare department. It was like DiMeo somehow knew how Phil’s affection for Clint was growing steadily.

Sometimes they met at diners for lunch on the rare occasions Phil could get away from the office when he wasn’t on a mission. Clint often invited him to church events, and Phil usually accepted if it involved the kids in some form. He lost count of how many basketball fundraisers or archery contests he attended.

If Clint asked, he tried to go. Clint asked for so little, and Phil wanted to give him everything.

They argued all the time. Phil found it refreshing to find someone who could challenge him and wasn’t awed by ‘Agent Coulson.’ And the topics they debated weren’t exactly the kind that showed up in the SHIELD break room.

“You’ve said it yourself, Phil, you’ve seen too much to not believe in an existence of a divine being.” Clint gestured with his coffee mug. They were in Phil’s apartment, like so many other quiet nights in front of the television, although this time instead of Phil’s favored reality TV, they’d just finished up watching a documentary on Vatican art, and it had led to a conversation on religion.

Phil didn’t talk about work much with Clint, after their first meeting he hadn’t asked for the seal of confession again. But Clint knew enough of what Phil did and joked about both of them saving souls in different ways.

“A divine being, yes, but a God with a personality and a deep interest in me personally? I don’t see how you can make the connection.” Phil had gone back to the kitchen for a refill of hot cocoa and to throw another bag of popcorn in the microwave. Clint knew better than to expect gourmet cooking here.

Clint turned around on the couch to watch. “That’s why we call it faith.”

“Faith?” Phil couldn’t help the snort. The things he had faith in were quantifiable - his own skills, the abilities of his assets, not some super being who lived in the sky.

The popcorn dinged, and he pulled the piping hot bag out. Phil dumped the contents in a large plastic bowl, salted it heavily, and carried his snacks back out to the coffee table. 

“In all the time we’ve known each other, I have never found you to be anything but rational. So you can see why this doesn’t make sense to me.” 

Why did Clint believe so strongly? What held him to the priesthood? Phil was self-aware enough to see the jealousy in himself. His crush on Clint was embarrassing, but over the past few years he’d contented himself with friendship. Phil had so few friends after all. 

Clint appeared to think about it for a while before blowing a breath out. “Sometimes in a quiet moment of prayer, I feel this sense of peace. My whole being is filled with it. I think you’ve felt it too, Phil. Remember the night we met?”

He nodded. Phil would never forget that night. It was burned in his memory. 

“Forgive me for bringing it up, I mean, I’m your friend, not your priest. But when you confessed, you gave up your burden to God. I think you felt that, then. I’m not wrong, am I, Phil?” Clint had turned toward him with such an earnest expression on his face.

Phil leaned forward, despite himself. Clint’s lips were so plump and delicious. Before he could register the thought, he’d kissed Clint, crushing their mouths together. Clint gasped and Phil’s tongue slid between his lips, tasting the sweet chocolate mixed with the salty popcorn. It was only a moment, but Phil registered everything - the way Clint’s breath caught, the softness of his skin, the way he smelled, like sweat and cinnamon - and how Clint’s hand fisted in Phil’s shirt before pushing Phil away.

Clint got to his feet, gasping. He stared at Phil with wide eyes, his hair tousled in all directions. “Phil, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you that impression.”

“Clint, it’s okay.” Phil got to his feet, wondering if there was any way he could salvage this situation. His heart pounded loudly in his chest.

“I’m celibate, Phil.” The words sounded torn out of Clint. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I think I’d better go.” 

He stopped to grab his jacket on the way out, and Phil wished for the words to make him stay. But Clint was already at the door. 

“I. Um.” Clint shook his head. “Good night, Phil.”

The TV blared out a commercial that hurt his ears. The apartment still smelled like popcorn.

He was gone and Phil was alone.

  
***  


Phil didn’t sleep much that night. The first hour he’d kicked himself for giving in to the desire he’d been hiding for years. He’d ruined a friendship for a kiss.

It had been a hell of a kiss.

He found himself replaying it. Phil closed his eyes. He could taste Clint and feel his warmth beneath his fingers. Despite everything he couldn’t regret the chance he’d stolen. Phil had never made a connection with another person like he’d had with Clint. There was something between them, built on their inexplicable friendship.

Clint was a priest - a Catholic priest. Phil knew that. His faith, despite their arguing, was a quality Phil respected and cherished. He would not jeopardize Clint’s vocation.

He needed to apologize to Clint.

Somehow he also needed to convince Clint that he was happy to remain Clint’s friend. Phil needed a plan. He was good at coming up with those. So that’s what he spent the rest of the night doing.

  
***  


The next morning, Phil stopped to grab the largest coffee he could find before calling Pepper Potts on his way to headquarters.

“Phil! It’s always so nice to hear from you.” She beamed at him through the screen on the phone. 

In all his dealings with Tony Stark, the most pleasant aspect was befriending Ms. Potts. It did have the side effect of annoying Stark to no end, which pleased Phil. But Pepper was an extremely intelligent and competent woman. He was grateful Stark had some stabilizing influence.

Also Phil genuinely liked her. 

“I didn’t call at a bad time, did I?” Phil navigated his way through the busy streets, glancing down every so often.

“No. Luckily you caught me between meetings. Everything okay? As far as I know I left Tony in his lab this morning.” 

He caught the strain around her eyes and Phil reassured her quickly. “No, no, this has nothing to do with Mr. Stark. Well, nothing to do with his extracurricular activities. Is there room in the Stark philanthropist budget for another worthy cause?”

“What’s the cause?”

“Afterschool programs for disadvantaged youth at St. Jude’s church. I realize it’s a religious organization, but the church serves any youth in the community, no matter their faith.” It was one of the things Clint was most proud of. He really loved those kids, and it didn’t matter if they were all Catholic or not.

“Email me the info. I know there’s some money in there that hasn’t been earmarked this year. Were you thinking one or two?”

“Thousand?” Phil hedged.

Pepper laughed. “Hundred thousand at the low end. But we’ll chat. Maybe over lunch!”

Phil said his goodbyes, and wandered in a daze to his office. He wasn’t due out in the field any time soon. They were still putting together some recon for his next candidate for the Avengers Initiative. So that meant some good old fashioned paperwork, as if he were the middle management flunky he appeared to be.

After an hour or two, he got out his phone and texted Clint. “Sorry how I acted last night. Do you want to meet for lunch at Lorenzo’s?” 

Lorenzo’s was a pizza shop in the same neighborhood as the church. It was a casual, well lit place. Phil hoped it showed he didn’t intend anything other than friendship.

He waited, but Clint didn’t reply. Well, he might be busy. Sometimes he performed morning mass during the week. Clint also had other duties that Phil obviously wasn’t aware of. 

After two hours, Phil started to sweat. It wasn’t like Clint to not respond. How badly had Phil fucked up if Clint wouldn’t even return a simple text message? When eleven o’clock rolled around, he decided to take an early ‘lunch’ and walk by the church. 

Maybe Clint had forgotten to charge his phone. He had an ancient model, one that Phil had gently teased him about. Gently, because he knew that all of Clint’s extra money went to help the kids. 

Phil signed out of headquarters. His skin itched with the need to talk to Clint, to explain everything. Offering Stark as a sponsor for the youth program would show that Phil knew they could only be friends, that he supported everything that Clint stood for. Phil walked faster, glad the church wasn’t that far. It had been how he’d stumbled into it, all those years ago.

He trotted up the steps to the rectory, thinking to ask the secretary if Clint was around. If he was at some church related function, then she would know, and he could stop the creeping panic that edged along his spine.

The door moved inward at his touch. Phil went still. Yes, the rectory was open to the public, but the door didn’t usually hang on its hinges like that. He put one hand on his sidearm - glad he’d kept it on - and pushed the door all the way open while standing to the side. The living area was clear.

He stepped in, keeping the wall to his back as he looked into the office. A pair of high heeled feet stuck out from behind the desk. Phil crept in and knelt to check the woman’s vitals. She had a goose egg on her head, but she was breathing normally. 

“Agent Phil Coulson calling for backup. We have a possible 304 in progress. Send dispatch vans, but wait for my signal before entering the premises.” He tapped his comm and gave the directions before switching to radio silence. This could be nothing more than a simple robbery, and in that case they’d have to turn things over to the local police.

But not until he found Clint.

“Help is on the way, Laura,” he murmured. 

Phil went back to the living area and just listened, all of his senses stretching out to hear if the culprit was still in the rectory. After a moment, he heard it - a muffled thump, and voices, although he had to strain to capture it. The sounds were coming from below him. The rectory must have a basement. 

His ears led him to the kitchen, where he found a slim wooden door slightly ajar. Phil moved silently, taking each step with care. It wouldn’t do to telegraph his presence too soon. It was a challenge getting down the rickety steps, but his SHIELD training kicked in.

He stopped halfway down, still in the shadows but he could see everything below him. 

It was like a scene from a bad movie. Clint, wearing his clerical collar, was tied to a wooden chair underneath a single swaying light bulb. A man circled him, and from here all Phil could see was that he wore a ratty pair of jeans, had dark hair, and was waving a gun around far too freely. Clint had his eyes on that gun, and he was already sporting a split lip.

“I told you, Barney, there’s nothing here.”

“Bullshit. This place must take in thousands in donations each week.” The aforementioned Barney had stopped his pacing, but he continued to gesture with his gun. Phil wasn’t sure he could get a shot off without causing Barney to discharge his own firearm.

“Yeah, and it goes straight to the bank to pay our bills. There’s no secret safe with the money. This is a church, not a damn nightclub.”

There was a crack as Barney slugged Clint with his free hand. “Stop playing innocent with me, little brother. I know the truth about you.”

Phil nearly gasped. This was Clint’s brother? The one who’d run away to join the circus and didn’t leave when Clint had? 

Clint spat, and blood ran down his chin. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been watching you for days. Watching you follow your boyfriend around, meet for lunch, go up to his apartment. I see how you look at him with those puppy eyes. You’re nothing but a sick stereotype. I figured this priest shit had to be a cover for something.”

Phil quickly made his way down the rest of the steps, while both brothers were so involved in their conversation. 

“It’s not a cover for anything. You’ve never in your whole life cared for another human being…” 

As much as he’d like to hear where Clint took that, Phil knew he could end this. He dove off the last step, grabbed the mop he’d spied leaning up against the wall and turned it into a staff, knocking out Barney’s legs from under him. The gun when flying, but hit the ground without discharging. 

Phil whirled the mop and smacked the back of Barney’s head. He went down hard and didn’t get back up again.

“Are you all right?” Phil asked.

“Phil? How did you find me?”

Phil poked Barney to make sure he was unconscious, before darting across the room to untie Clint. “You didn’t reply to my text.”

“Oh. My phone’s up in my bedroom.” Clint shook out his hands.

Phil turned away and tapped his comm. “Need clean up and paramedics. Local authorities need to be alerted as well.” He looked over and grinned at Clint. “The perks of the job. We’ll have this taken care of in no time…” Phil trailed off at the expression on Clint’s face. “What is it?”

“How long were you standing there?” Clint’s eyes were hollow and one of them was beginning to swell quite spectacularly. 

“Maybe you should sit down. You’re looking kind of pale.” Phil reached for Clint’s arm, but wasn’t surprised when he pulled away. “I heard enough to know your brother was trying to extort you and rob the parish.”

“Yeah.” Clint swallowed.

They heard banging from upstairs and someone shouted, “Agent Coulson?”

“Down here!” Phil called.

Clint’s hands had started to shake. Phil motioned for the paramedic agents and let them have at Clint. There would be time to talk later.

  
***  


It wasn’t until Saturday that Clint showed up at Phil’s apartment door. He’d at least called first, so Phil had enough presence of mind to straighten up and pull on a sweater before answering the knock.

Clint stood there dressed in jeans and a henley, with a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. Phil took one look at him and said, “You’re leaving.”

Clint grimaced. “Can I come in and explain?”

Phil nodded and stepped aside. Clint let his bag drop by the front door and started to pace the living room as Phil locked up behind him.

“I’m being sent on retreat,” Clint explained. “Actually going to a program in the Vatican, which is kinda cool. I’ve never been out of the country.”

“Clint…”

“It’s what they do now, when you’re a priest who tells his bishop that he might be falling in love with someone.”

Phil sat down hard on the couch. “I was coming to the church to tell you I got Stark to sponsor the youth program.”

Clint laughed. “That’s...that’s freakin amazing, that’s what that is.”

“It seems silly now. I wanted you to know how much I valued your work. I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t want to steal you, Clint.”

Clint knelt across from Phil, forcing Phil to look him in the eye. “It didn’t happen overnight, Phil. I figure we’ve been dating for years now, but neither of us realized it.”

Phil laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.” There was so much he wanted to say, but Phil couldn’t give Clint that burden, not now.

To his surprise, Clint took his hand and squeezed it gently. “I’ve got a lot to figure out, Phil. I have to decide if I can continue as a priest.”

“I wouldn’t want you to quit because of me,” Phil protested. It was the last thing in the world he wanted. 

“They say you can’t ever really quit.” Clint let go of Phil’s hand and got to his feet. “Phil, I can’t continue without knowing for sure. That’s the point of the retreat. I get some up close and personal time with God, and I hope he gives me some insight on his plan for me.”

Phil stood as well. He knew what outcome he hoped for, but more than anything Phil wanted what was best for Clint. “I still want to be your friend,” he blurted. The only thing he couldn’t stand was never having Clint in his life again.

Clint smiled, despite his split lip and black eye, it brightened his whole face and made Phil’s heart leap with joy. “I’ll always be your friend.” Then, to Phil’s surprise, he wrapped his arms around Phil and hugged him tight.

Phil closed his eyes and savored the feel of Clint in his arms. If nothing else, he would always have this.

It would have to be enough.


End file.
